


Jasmine

by RandomNumbers452351



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Gen, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomNumbers452351/pseuds/RandomNumbers452351
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vietnam had a hard life. China always knew that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jasmine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic written for blueflower1994. I had this idea a while ago and since this is her OTP, I decided to write this. Please, note I have never watched Hetalia, so my knowledge is wiki-based and thanks to Squiggles, who beta'ed this story. But I hope you enjoy as well!  
> I have to admit that I liked Vietnam's character in Hetalia. Vietnam had some really rough years in the XXth century. And this reflected in her Hetalia character, so I came along with it.

"I remember this photo."

The photo showed a group of nations yelling at France, the timestamp displaying May 8, 1954. Vietnam was the most active in the uproar: she picked a chair and bashed at the blonde Frenchman, whom tried to protect himself with his arm. He looked like he was near tears.

"France lost most of his colonies after second World War. He had great family, but everyone went off to their own place. Now he has just French Guyana. He loves his rockets." China had the photo album in his lap. Vietnam sat down beside him, her hands firmly on her knees, while she looked down with a stern expression that was characteristic of her.

After he heard her complaining that Chinese ships were seen in Vietnamese waters in the last Eastern World meeting (granted he also received an earful from Japan and Philippines), he made sure to visit them personally in order to avoid any misunderstanding and blame the pesky politicians. Although, he didn't have much respect in their eyes as he once had, he still cared about every member of his family. Especially Vietnam. The poor girl had a rough story. He had one as well, but he had over four millennia to learn on how to cope and to not force hard feelings towards other nations.

"Oh, this one…" It showed Vietnam slapping her sister, South Vietnam. The timestamp said 27 February, 1962. If there was something that was taboo with her, it was that no one talked about her sister, South Vietnam. "Let's skip that. Oh, here you with Alfred!" China said with a smile, turning the page. September 23, 1968. Vietnam had a knife hanging right at America's neck. Her other hand immobilized him in an arm lock. His glasses were broken and he had an expression mixed of confusion and fear. Her face had an expression of rage and fury that could rival with the wrath of a god. In the back, he could see South Vietnam lying down, beaten up.

"He's a nice guy, he has no hard feelings." Vietnam nodded. He didn't dare talk about her sister. No one knew where she was but, remembering Poland's story, he knew that she was alive. Or at least that's what he wanted to believe.

"Here is Cambodia." January 7, 1979. Vietnam delivered a roundhouse kick right at Cambodia's face. "No worry, you friends today, aren't you?" Vietnam nodded.

"And, oh, this is me." March 16, 1979. Vietnam punched China so hard in his face that it actually broke his nose. "I still remember that punch. You a good fighter, Vietnam."

"Thank you." She said, in low voice.

"You're welcome. Seeing those photos reminds me of how great the age we live is." China said. He didn't know what motivated him to look at her photo album. Perhaps with hope to find something good to share, or just to kill time.

"Yes, it is. It is too much great."

"Isn't it a good thing?" He asked, turning to face her.

"Yes, but that is the problem." She looked into his eyes and continued, "It is too good. The Vietnamese people is prospering, there is no invasions of our territory." She glared at him for a while, but since they already sorted the issue, she let go.

"But I'm just afraid…" Tears started to form on her eyes. "I'm still not used to this peace. This seems so good and yet so fragile! What if everything crumbles?" To China's shock, Vietnam threw her arms around him and tightly gripped his sides, starting to cry on his chest. China had no option but to hug her back; she trusted him enough to show her weak moment to him. He hesitantly rested his chin over her head while she cried. She had the fame of never smiling and he knew why.

She was his neighbor, his friend, and…something more? He never understood what he felt for Vietnam. Their story came from a long time ago. He knew her parents. They were always startled with him. Even when she was younger and was under France's authority, she seemed to be more afraid of him than the dandy blonde. However, after the World War, she wasn't innocent anymore and, even considering her petite frame, she could take on stronger nations and prevail. He instinctively felt something itching on his nose.

"I've been living for a long time." China said, caressing her hair. "Conflict is part not only of our stories, but of humanity. Strife walked side to side with history and unfortunately it still like that in some places. But things have improved, and we should be thankful for that and work to make things even better."

"Yao," Vietnam whispered. She had stopped crying and now she just remained buried in her chest. "You lived through a lot. I remember, when I was younger, that you wanted to show me something when you visited me. What was it?"

"I was going to sing for you." Yes, he remembered. He visited Hue and saw the little Vietnam in the palace. She was afraid of him and hid behind a curtain. When he tried to reach her, she just ran away.

"Sing for me, Yao." He cleared his throat and sang Mo Li Hua. "Flower of jasmine, so fair!" It was a popular Chinese folkloric song, about the jasmine flower, a symbol of China and one of his favorite songs.

After he finished, he heard Vietnam asking, in her low voice, "One more…" Thankfully, China had a good repertoire of songs, both modern and traditional, Chinese and overseas. After singing three songs, he realized that Vietnam had fallen asleep in his lap. He looked at her, she had a faint smile on her lips. Now he knew that she was like the fearful little kid just wanting to be alive that he met and it was inside that war-torn shell that everyone saw. She grew up to be a beautiful and strong woman.

There was hope for her and if there was hope for her, there was hope for the world.


End file.
